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by metalkiralylany



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11066007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalkiralylany/pseuds/metalkiralylany
Summary: It’s not until Yuuri boards his third, final flight from Moscow that it registers that this is actually happening. He’s really doing this.Or:Yuuri moves to Saint Petersburg. This is how it goes.





	Home

It’s not until Yuuri boards his third, final flight from Moscow that it registers that this is actually happening. _He’s really doing this._ By that point he has about 20 hours of travel behind him, most of which he spent in a daze, not quite awake but unable to fall into deep, relaxing sleep, constantly fiddling with his phone or staring at the tour guide book he brought along for the journey, not comprehending a single word of it. He did manage to doze off for a couple of hours once or twice on the way from Tokyo to Moscow, but got woken up once the plane landed, already suffering from the inevitable jet-lag. No matter how much he has travelled internationally for competitions during the past decade, it never became any easier, and it probably didn’t help that his sleeping habits were questionable even on an average day.

Yuuri suppresses a yawn as he hands the ticket to the flight attendant and attempts to smile back at her as she points him towards his seat.

He stares through the window on his left, squinting against the sun that’s just barely risen above the horizon, feeling the familiar pressure as the plane takes off from the runway, the outside world nothing but a blur of green, grey and blue. This time though the sensation doesn’t fade once they reach travelling height, it still feels as if he’s being pressed into the back of his seat, an invisible force closing around his lungs, making his breathing shallow and his heart beat a frantic rhythm in his chest, as the reality of the situation hits him. It’s not his first time moving away from home, and it’s something that they carefully planned for months, not jumped into it headfirst (Yuuri isn’t Viktor, he can’t just do _that –_ he smiles at the memory. Sometimes it’s still unbelievable that Viktor just showed up from out of nowhere, dropping practically everything, relying on nothing but a ray of hope), he knows what’s waiting for him at Saint Petersburg (or does he?), but still. The line between excitement and panic is thin and fragile, and Yuuri is used to dancing across it to the tune of his racing thoughts.

He came prepared, learned what he could about the city to avoid getting lost, the map of it downloaded on his phone, he knows where Viktor’s apartment is located and which subway line to take there in case something goes wrong and Viktor can’t make it to the airport on time, he even knows where to find the hidden spare keys if necessary. There’s nothing to worry about really, but he does anyway, the thrill of finally making it to another milestone of their lives mixing with the undertones of dreading the unknown, his smile wavering slightly while his cold fingers grip his phone a little tighter.

It's not the moving, he’d done that before, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar. Living with another person isn’t either, he used to room with Phichit, he knows what sharing space is like, he knows that it takes time to get used to someone else’s habits and rhythm of life, and he technically _has_  lived with Viktor before. This time it’s different, though. There is no ending date here, no goal to reach. They are still active skaters, of course, their careers entwined, but their life together isn’t just based on that, it’s based on a connection stronger than he’s ever felt before, something he can’t even describe with words, neither in English, nor in Japanese. Words wouldn’t do justice to what he feels in every cell of his body when he looks at the golden ring smoothly wrapping around his finger, how his heart flutters in his chest when Viktor says his name with such fondness, as if it’s something precious.

Still, moving in together is bold, it’s something _new_ ; it sort of finalizes what they have, what they are, and sometimes that thought seems overwhelming.

Yuuri wills himself to calm down as the plane begins to descend, and it’s not even that hard to attribute the sudden drop of his stomach to aerodynamics as they land smoothly at Pulkovo Airport. Then he goes through the familiar motions and waits collect his suitcases without letting himself think too deeply about where he is and what he’s doing. So far so good. He swallows down the rest of his worries and begins to make his way through the busy terminal, searching the morning crowd for that unmistakable flash of silver and a pair of ocean blue eyes always shining with excitement. Despite all his efforts, he panics a little when he doesn’t manage to spot the familiar face in the next several minutes, pulling his luggage behind himself in an excruciatingly slow pace, awkwardly crossing paths with strangers in a hurry, constantly mumbling unheard apologies as he bumps into several of them.

When he _does_ spot him though, it feels like time slows down, and Yuuri is once again captivated by that gaze, mesmerized and unable to look away. If this was a movie, people would also slow down and maybe even part before him so they could run towards that perfect, dramatic reunion, but of course this is real life where he can’t always just drop all of his belongings to jump into Viktor’s arms, Yuuri’s brain helpfully supplies. He doesn’t even realize that he stopped moving until someone straight up walks into him, almost knocking him over as he trips over his own feet ungracefully, and the magic of the moment is broken. Yes, definitely real life. Painfully so.

Viktor’s entire face lights up with a smile as he waves at Yuuri, already dodging people with ease and quickly making his way towards where he’s still standing. Yuuri opens his mouth to greet him but before he could get the first syllable out, he’s being enveloped in long arms, his forehead knocking against Viktor’s shoulder in the rush, his own arms sliding around the other man’s back instinctively. They stay like that for a while, and Yuuri wishes he’d never have to let go as he takes the first deep breath in hours, taking in the familiar scent of Viktor’s coat, his skin, _him…_ He missed this, he missed Viktor so much.

They let go of each other eventually as the buzzing of the airport catches up with them again, but they still haven’t moved an inch. Yuuri looks up into the absolute warmest pair of blue eyes ever, glinting under the fluorescent lights, so full of life, and suddenly his own eyes begin to sting a little and he feels the urge to blink away the tears swelling up, but he wouldn’t look away for the world now, he wants Viktor to _know_. And based on his expression, he _does._

Still not breaking eye contact, Viktor reaches for Yuuri’s hand and laces their fingers together.

“Hi,” he smiles down at Yuuri.

“Hi,” Yuuri breathes out, feeling his face heat up slightly as he smiles back. Viktor still has that effect on him, and probably always will.

“Ready?” Viktor asks, squeezing his hand gently.

“Ready,” Yuuri nods.

And then they are off, Viktor grabbing one of Yuuri’s suitcases, never letting go of his hand as he begins to talk animatedly while Yuuri’s brain still struggles a bit to catch up with the events. He follows Viktor as if he’s walking in a dream, the exhaustion from the travelling crashing down on him now that his body is no longer in fight of flight mode, he allows himself to be led by Viktor, barely registering the changes in scenery as they leave the terminal and step out onto the streets. The sun is barely visible behind several layers of clouds, but it’s still so bright that his eyes close involuntarily against the offending light, and he can barely hear Viktor’s voice over the sound of moving cars, let alone make out what he just said. It must have been some sort of question, because Viktor looks at him expectantly.

“Uhm, sorry, I didn’t catch that.” He squints up at his fiancé.

“I can see that,” Viktor says, smirking. “I just asked if you were hungry. We could find some place to eat, but if you aren’t then we can just pick something up on the way home for later.”

At the moment, Yuuri isn’t sure he’s capable of making such decisions. Is he hungry? Who knows. He’s just about ready to drop dead or take a nap on the spot. Everything else sounds like a lot of effort.

“Uhm.”

Viktor knocks his head to one side, his expression concerned.

“Yuuri?”

On the way home. _Home._

“Is everything alright?”

Yuuri shakes his head a bit. “Right, sorry. Of course. Okay!”

“Okay what?” Viktor laughs, letting go of Yuuri’s suitcase (but not his hand) to flatten a stray lock of black hair into place. It’s a futile attempt, Yuuri’s hair is untamable without considerable amounts of gel, but it’s nice as Viktor’s gentle fingers brush against his cheek, leaving them tinted pink once again.

“Sorry, I meant I’m not hungry. I’m just tired, so if we could just go…” he makes a meaningless gesture with his free hand. He doesn’t want to say _your place_ but can’t quite call it _home_ yet either. “I could probably fall asleep standing right here,” he adds.

“I can tell,” Viktor says with a smile. “Let’s go then.”

 

 

Yuuri barely remembers their trip through the city, colors, subway stops and faces blurring into an unrecognizable mess around him as he struggles to keep his eyes open. He instinctively leans against Viktor as they stand on the subway, unable to find a place to sit in the morning rush. Viktor keeps a protective arm around him so he doesn’t fall. Yuuri follows him up to the streets again almost blindly, and it’s a miracle they still haven’t lost any of his luggages. Or at least he thinks so. Sincerely hopes so. He almost walks into Viktor when he stops in front of a building and enters the code for the apartment on the panel by the door. It opens with a buzz, and they walk up three flights of stairs before finally Viktor leads him through a short corridor that leads to a single entrance. He fiddles with the keys, opening several locks and Yuuri’s tired brain notes through the sleepiness that this is probably something he will struggle with for a while.

He does wake up a bit though as he steps through the threshold and he’s immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic poodle, sniffing and licking his hands while wagging her tail furiously, and Yuuri laughs as he reaches down to scratch the dogs head behind her ear. After a while, Makkachin runs after Viktor, probably in the hope of getting some treats, and Yuuri hovers around the entrance awkwardly while Viktor goes ahead to set his suitcases in the living room and refills Makkachin’s food bowl in the kitchen, shutting the door behind himself when he comes back. Yuuri has seen Viktor’s apartment before during many of their never ending Skype sessions, Viktor even gave him a proper tour once, but it’s different to be here in person. Viktor seems to notice his hesitation.

“Yuuri, please, make yourself at home!” he smiles, gesturing around.

Yuuri nods, still not quite sure how to proceed. He wanders around, stroking the edge of the table, then the bookshelf. Viktor’s books are mostly in Russian, but there’s an entire segment dedicated to English and even some French. Then he spots a Japanese course book and his heart leaps in his chest, unexpected warmth spreading through his center. He lingers there a bit, attempting to decipher some Cyrillic titles with his scarce knowledge of the language and its alphabet before finally turning away to find himself face to face with Viktor casually leaning against the bedroom’s doorframe, watching him with a fond smile and something deeper in his eyes that Yuuri can’t quite name. Yuuri clears his throat, blushing, Viktor steps away from the door and gestures inside.

“If you want to sleep, the bed’s ready. Or do you want to eat first?” he asks.

Yuuri sighs, scratching his head.

“Is it okay if I just crash now? Or… wait, what time is it again?” He turns around to see the clock on the wall showing 11 AM. He winces. “Maybe I should keep myself awake for a little longer though, otherwise I’ll end up waking you up in the middle of the night and I don’t want to do that because you have training tomorrow, and I don’t want to inconvenience you and…”

Before he can go on, Viktor crosses the room with three long steps. Shaking his head, he cups Yuuri’s cheeks, the cool metal of the ring on his finger leaving a strange sensation on his skin, in stark contrast with his warm palms.

“Yuuri, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re finally here.”

He wants to say something else, he really does, but the warmth radiating from Viktor’s eyes, from his entire being is overwhelming. He swallows, licking his lips, and doesn’t miss the way Viktor’s gaze flickers down.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” Yuuri says, his voice barely a whisper.

They stay like that for a few seconds, unmoving, Yuuri even holds his breath without meaning to. Then there’s only a tiny bit of hesitation before they both lean in, completely in sync, and it’s a perfect moment. At first it’s nothing more than a gentle brush of lips, it’s careful and sweet, as if they can’t quite believe yet that this is real, and they are afraid that if someone made a too sudden move it’d all crack down and fall apart like a dream.

After a while, when they got that reassurance, it’s no longer enough. Viktor’s hands slide into Yuuri’s hair, making his scalp tingle under the touch, as Yuuri pulls him closer by his waist, suddenly feeling a surge of confidence. As he presses his lips against Viktor’s in another kiss, Viktor smiles into it, and he can’t help but grin a bit too. Viktor then uses this moment to deepen the contact and Yuuri gladly gives himself over to the new sensation, his eyes fluttering close. He missed this, he missed Viktor, the taste of his lips, the way he responds to Yuuri’s every move, the warmth of his body pressed up against him, even that he has to tilt his head up and lift his heels off the ground to reach him properly.

They seem to have the same idea, because without breaking the kiss, Yuuri gently pushes against Viktor to get him moving while Viktor untangles his hands from Yuuri’s hair to grab him around his waist and pull him forwards, towards the open door. Their kisses becoming more and more frantic, shallow breaths stolen in-between, they stumble into the couch then Yuuri steps on Viktor’s foot, but his apology gets silenced by a tongue licking into his mouth to which he responds with a broken sound, then it’s Viktor’s turn to groan as his shoulder bumps into the doorframe hard enough to throw him off balance and break the kiss for a second. But then Yuuri’s lips are back on his, and the next thing he hits is the mattress of the bed at the back of his knee, and Yuuri doesn’t hesitate to push him down to it, climbing over him in an instant, straddling Viktor’s hips between his thighs. He just sits there, gazing down on this unbelievable man, the one that chose _him_ , and _only him_. And Yuuri chose Viktor too, nothing could prove that more than the fact that they were here, on Viktor’s bed, on _their_ bed, united by love and two golden bands wrapped around their fingers, finally separated by nothing but an easily removable layer of clothes.

Yuuri tries to convey all of this through a single look, and he hopes he succeeds. He still can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, that he really does have _Viktor Nikiforov,_ his _fiancé,_ sprawled out under him, looking up at Yuuri with lips swollen and red from _his_ kisses, pupils blown so wide that they almost swallow up all the pretty blue in his eyes. _Beautiful,_ Yuuri thinks.

“You’re beautiful,” Viktor says. Yuuri feels another blush spread across his skin.

He leans forward, bracing himself on his palms on each side of Viktor’s head and leans down for another kiss. This time it’s slower but passionate, unsaid words translated into delicate movements. He can’t hold this position for long though, exhaustion catching up with him once again, so he gently rolls off Viktor, lying next to him instead. Viktor uses the change to prop himself up on his elbow, lifting his other hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek for a second before letting it wander downwards, from his neck through his chest to the front of his pants, earning a low moan, and he leans in to capture Yuuri’s lips with a triumphant smile.

But of course this isn’t a Hollywood movie and Yuuri just can’t _not_ embarrass himself, so his jet-lagged body chooses this exact moment to betray him, and he straight up yawns into the kiss.

Viktor pulls away with a mock pout.

“Yuuri, am I boring you?” he whines.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so tired, I didn’t–” Yuuri starts to apologize but he’s interrupted by another yawn. Viktor laughs.

“We’re not in any hurry,” he says, as he leans down, brushing his lips against Yuuri’s ear, making him shiver. “You had a long day, sleep as long as you need to. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“You sure?” Yuuri blinks up at him.

“I’m sure.”

It’s tempting to just close his eyes and fall asleep right there and then, but Yuuri at least has the decency to quickly shrug out of his jeans, brush his teeth and set his glasses on the nightstand along with his phone before he faceplants into the pillows once again.

 

 

The next time he wakes, it seems to be at a surprisingly normal time, since there’s light coming through the window of the room. First night in a new bed, he’d never slept so soundly. He’s alone in the bed though, which doesn’t feel right, and he reaches over to the nightstand, feeling around until he finds his phone. He squints at the screen, which reads 6:05 AM. _Wow_. Did he really manage to sleep _eighteen hours_? He sighs as he turns on his back to stretch, just in time to see Viktor peak through the slightly ajar door.

“Hey,” Yuuri greets him with a small smile, still not fully awake.

“Hey,” Viktor smiles back, wider. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did. Did you?” he asks, concerned.

“Never better,” Viktor beams at him. “I’m just about to take Makkachin for a morning walk. Do you want to join us?”

Yuuri’s first reply is a loud groan because it’s way too early for manners.

“So early,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you join me here instead?” he half-jokes, as he also knows the responsibilities of a dog owner.

Viktor laughs. Yuuri holds his gaze with an eyebrow raised. A challenge. Viktor’s laughter fades. He swallows.

“You’re a terrible influence,” Viktor says, shaking his head as he climbs on the bed and lies down next to Yuuri. Yuuri just grins.

“I didn’t think you’d be so easy to convince,” he admits. “But I played myself because I do actually need to get up first. I need a shower. Now I just made that harder for myself.” He groans as he rolls off the mattress rather ungracefully.

He takes a long, hot shower, scrubs away the last remnants of travel and sleep, feeling finally refreshed. He fully expects Viktor to have left by the time he’s done about twenty minutes later, but much to his surprise, he’s still lying on the bed when he enters the room.

“Wow,” he concludes.

“Wow indeed,” Viktor replies, giving him a look and Yuuri realizes that he’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Suddenly he gets self-conscious and almost goes for his suitcase to quickly get dressed, but then he stops himself. This is _Viktor_. His _fiancé. They now live together, not to mention that they’ve seen each other naked many times before._ And based on Viktor’s face (and the rest of his body), he really doesn’t seem to mind the lack of proper clothing.

So Yuuri refuses to do what his anxious mind usually forces him to. He will not retreat into his shell today, comfort zone be damned. He’s a figure skater for god’s sake, eighty percent of the things he does require him to leave his comfort zone. What he does is dropping the towel (Viktor’s jaw goes slack and he doesn’t even blink), and he climbs under the covers (strictly for warmth).

“So… what kind of influence am I, exactly?” he asks, feigning innocence as he faces Viktor, propped up on his elbow.

“A very, very bad influence,” Viktor mumbles before he leans in for a kiss.

They start out slow again, the first brush of their lips is all light teasing, until Yuuri captures Viktor’s lower lip between his teeth and pulls at it gently. Viktor lets out a small whine.

“This isn’t fair,” he complains, flopping down on his back. “I really do need to go.”

“It’s still early,” Yuuri mumbles against his neck, feeling it move slightly under his lips as he swallows. “You said there was no rush,” he teases.

“But Makka–“Viktor tries, and Yuuri fights the flash of guilt rising in the rational part of his brain. The poor old dog doesn’t deserve this treatment just so he could have his way, but he isn’t planning on keeping Viktor for long anyway. She’ll survive, just this once. And Viktor’s weak attempt at resistance doesn’t stand a chance. It never does.

“Just fifteen minutes,” Yuuri whispers, nibbling at Viktor’s earlobe.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a tiny voice warns him that maybe he shouldn’t be so insistent, so straightforward, demanding, even. He came into Viktor’s life, although invited, he should let him set the pace, their routine, settle into it like a piece of a puzzle and not turn the whole picture into chaos. But Yuuri is 24, and he’s done waiting. There’s never really been a good time, not at home, where everything around him reminds him of his childhood innocence and the confusing mess of his teenage years, with his parents just a few thin walls away. Nor in hotel rooms after competitions, where everything feels just a little bit too impersonal (that didn’t really stop them but it just wasn’t the same and not what they both craved) and they could never afford to stay in bed just because they wanted to, their flights usually scheduled for early mornings for practical reasons.

So now he wants to take his time. He wants to savor every second of lying next to the man he loves the most, this beautiful whirlwind of a person who came to him so unexpected on a cold snowy day when everything seemed so dull and without hope. It took a while for Yuuri to see it, to learn how to read Viktor, what he wants and what he needs, and it’s still hard for him sometimes (maybe it always will be, but he tries), but he no longer looks for a double-edged meaning behind his actions, waiting for the “but” at the end of a statement, conditions or the threat of disappointment. He _does_ worry about things, however tiny, that’s something that’ll probably never go away, but he learned to trust Viktor, as he trusts his family and the handful of friends he made along the way. The great, dark ulterior motive that drove Viktor to the quiet town of Hasetsu, halfway across the world, was his own loneliness, and a burning need for a change before apathy swallows him whole. That’s something that Yuuri understands, something they had in common, something that by chance (or maybe it’s fate, he isn’t sure) brought them together and gave them this beautiful, incredible thing that he’d never even dared to dream about.

 He reaches out under the covers to find Viktor’s hand and laces their fingers together, squeezing it gently. Viktor turns his head slightly so he can look at Yuuri, and it’s so easy to get lost in his eyes. Yuuri would be content to just stay here for all eternity, but he said fifteen minutes, and a promise is a promise.

His other hand begins to wander over the other man’s body, ghosting over his torso and sliding under the black t-shirt, abs clenching slightly under the soft touch, leaving goosebumps on his skin. Viktor’s smile grows wider, his gaze alive with something deep as he gently brushes his nose against Yuuri’s, his lips only an inch away, slightly parted and welcoming, almost touching when suddenly his breath hitches and his eyes widen as a Yuuri’s hand slides over the front of his tracksuit pants, palming him just at the right point with the right amount of pressure. A devilish grin spreads on Yuuri’s face as he closes the distance between them to plant a chaste kiss on Viktor’s cheek, then one to the corner of his mouth, and then he finally kisses him hard, his tongue sliding between pliant lips, receiving instant response. His grip on Viktor’s pants tightens just a little bit, earning a choked off moan against his mouth. Viktor lives for surprises, whether he’s on the giving or the receiving end, and Yuuri wouldn’t want to be one to disappoint.

They break away after a minute short of breath, and Yuuri searches Viktor’s eyes, pupils blown wide and blue irises burning with desire under pale eyelashes. His face is slightly flushed, silver locks of hair falling across his forehead, and Yuuri lets go of his hand to reach over and brush them away on instinct, the tips of his fingers lingering on Viktor’s cheekbone afterwards. This beautiful, _beautiful_ man. _All his_.

“Can I…?” Yuuri asks hesitantly as his other hand strokes the waistband of Viktor’s pants, fingers curling under the elastic fabric. They’ve done this before, and so much more, but it’s still a thrilling but nerve-wracking feeling every time even if he knows how to appear more confident than he feels thanks to years of practice in other fields of his life, and Viktor can probably see through the brave façade anyway.

“Yes,” Viktor sighs, his eyes never leaving Yuuri’s, sending a shiver down his spine and a whole other sensation to the lower parts of his body. He sits up, goosebumps rising on his skin as the covers slide from his torso, exposing him to the chill air of the room. He kneels next to Viktor and gently tugs at the elastic of his waistbands with slightly trembling fingers while Viktor lifts his hips to help the process. Yuuri pulls both his pants and his underwear down to his ankles, freeing his half-hard erection. He takes a moment to marvel at the sight of him lying on the bed unmoving, still looking at Yuuri as if he’s something beautiful too. To Viktor, he supposes he is. He hoists one leg to straddle Viktor between his thighs, bracing himself on his palms on each side of Viktor’s torso, just like yesterday (only with less clothes), gasping at the unexpected contact as their cocks rub together, feeling Viktor shudder under him, his chest rising and falling slightly faster with each breath. He still has the t-shirt on though, which is absolutely unacceptable, Yuuri wants to see him, touch _all_ of him. He brings one hand to the side of Viktor’s hip, sliding it under the fabric, thrilled at the lean muscles hardening under the touch of his fingers, the softness of his skin, and suddenly the contact isn’t enough. He lifts the shirt up a bit, giving Viktor a questioning look, and he reacts immediately, grabbing the fabric and pulling it over his head in an instant, leaving himself completely exposed, finally.

Yuuri climbs up on the bed until they’re face to face again, and as he leans down for a kiss, Viktor lifts his head and meets him halfway, like he always does. He breaks away soon to catch his breath, and Yuuri uses the moment to plant kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, then his neck, sucking on the delicate skin there, catching it between his teeth, careful not to hurt, but enough to leave a mark. He relishes in the noises he draws from the other man as he moves on to his chest, determined to cover every inch of the perfect pale body under him. When he reaches a nipple and licks around it experimentally, Viktor lets out a low moan, his hands grabbing at Yuuri’s hips digging into his sides in a very pleasant way, making him want to go faster, but he wills himself to slow down, taking Viktor apart bit by bit, continuing the trail of kisses over his stomach then his lower abdomen, finally arriving to the base of his cock, now fully hard. Yuuri wraps a hand around the shaft and Viktor’s whole body shudders at the sensation, gasping, his fingers slide up on Yuuri’s back, ghosting over his neck and combing through his dark hair, grabbing at the short strands leaving Yuuri’s scalp tingling, his eyes fluttering close. He leans down again to plant another kiss a little bit higher, hearing Viktor whimper he smiles smugly, but before he could do anything else, a hand falls onto his shoulder and the other lifts his chin.

He looks up at Viktor, suddenly uncertain. Did he make a wrong move? Made him uncomfortable?

“Viktor?” he asks, his voice small. “Is everything okay?”

Viktor struggles with finding words, it seems, but his eyes are still warm.

“I want–Please come here,” he says, licking his lips. “I want to keep kissing you.”

Yuuri just _melts._ He obliges a second later, climbing up until their faces are merely inches away from each other, admiring Viktor once again from up close, his heart beating faster for a whole other reason than what’s happening with his body at the moment as he’s overcome with emotions. He nudges Viktor’s nose with his own and then lets the other man quickly capture his lips in a needy kiss, Viktor cupping the back of Yuuri’s head with one hand, the other stroking his side and his hips, his back, his ass, his _everything,_ finally wrapping around his length, the sudden contact making his arms buckle and threaten to give out, his breath hitching, a furious redness spreading over his cheeks. He slowly lowers himself and nudges Viktor’s shoulder until he takes the hint and shuffles a bit so he can lean down on the bed next to him, facing each other. Yuuri cups Viktor’s face with one hand, his thumb caressing his cheek while his other hand wanders down until he finds Viktor’s cock again, delicate fingers stroking and then mirroring Viktor’s position, doing his best to match his movements, helping each other to set the pace. Viktor’s other hand still buried in Yuuri’s hair now falls to the side of his neck, pulling him more into the kiss as their breathing becomes more and more shallow, their movements more frantic, Yuuri shivering at the contrast of cold air against his heated skin.

Now it’s Yuuri’s hand that combs through Viktor’s silver locks, holding onto the strands and pulling at them, which he knows is something that Viktor _loves._ This much he can still remember as his thoughts become a jumbled mess, the world going out of focus before his eyes as he breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath and finally comes with Viktor’s name on his lips, his hand stilling as he loses himself in complete bliss, vaguely registering that Viktor follows him a few seconds later.

They lie there, side by side, still panting, hearts thumping, eyes still locked. Soon Yuuri will start to feel the discomfort as his sweat-drenched hair clings to his neck and his forehead and the thick fluid across his middle begins to dry, but he can ignore all of that for a few more minutes, enjoying a perfect scene as Viktor’s face slowly comes back into focus. His blissed out state that reflects his own makes Yuuri smile. Viktor smiles too then, before kissing him one more time, slowly, savoring the feeling of Yuuri’s lips against his own.

More time passes without either of them moving, unwilling to break the magic of the moment, the first morning of their life together spent in _their home, their own bed,_ which they only need to leave now because there’s an impatient poodle scratching the other side of the closed bedroom door.

Viktor groans, burying his head in a pillow. Yuuri turns around to get his phone from the nightstand. He unlocks the screen and smirks, waving it in front of Viktor’s face.

“See? 6:47. I told you, just fifteen minutes.”

Viktor hums. “The best morning surprise.”

“Don’t get used to it though,” Yuuri warns him. “Not a morning person, remember?”

“I remember far too well,” Viktor chuckles, and Yuuri makes a face at him, feigning offence.

“I really do need to go now, though,” Viktor sighs, rolling out of the bed in one fluid motion. “We ignored Makkachin long enough, and I still need to shower before I can take her out.”

Yuuri nods, rolling onto his back. He should get up too to clean up, but it’d take energy he isn’t sure he has right now, legendary stamina or not, his body clock still isn’t really adjusted to the new time zone.

Viktor walks towards the door but stops there with one hand on the knob, turning back towards Yuuri with a playful smile. “Care to join me?”

That’s all the motivation Yuuri needs.

 

 

Living together with Viktor in Russia is somehow simultaneously everything and nothing like Yuuri expected.

So far they haven’t really run into any major problems, smaller disagreements over Yuuri leaving his stuff all over the place and Viktor forgetting to do even the most basic shopping because he isn’t really used to eating at home get settled quickly. They are fine. _More than fine._ Still, there are things that that require getting used to, and even after weeks they sometimes catch Yuuri off guard.

It’s the little things, like the way Viktor automatically reaches for his hand whenever they leave the house together like it’s nothing, meanwhile Yuuri struggles to focus on what Viktor is saying, his mind occupied by the sensation of their fingers laced together for everyone to see.

Shopping for two. It’s not that easy to get the amount of food right when he’s used to either helping his mother cook for the whole family or just making enough for himself.

Viktor somehow managing to slip the words _“my fiancé, Yuuri”_ in every possible conversation, often making him blush.

Having a dog again. They either take turns walking her or wander around the city together, whenever they have the time, which is becoming a rare occurrence as the next season approaches and their training gets harder, the hours spent at the rink longer.

It’s also the big things, like Yuuri getting his own key to the apartment on the second day, spending the entire time he’s away checking his backpack periodically to see if it’s still in there.

The first time the energy company sends someone over to do some planned repairs when Viktor isn’t home, and Yuuri is left with a handful of Russian phrases (half of which is not very applicable in everyday conversation, unless he plans on telling some random stranger to fuck him against a wall) and a maintenance worker who doesn’t speak English. Somehow they manage.

It’s the first day at the rink, officially having Yakov as his head coach and Viktor as his choreographer.

And then it’s the first night when Viktor asks Yuuri to fuck him. It’s something they’ve never done before but both thought about, and it’s new and exciting, but Yuuri’s nerves almost get the best of him as he’s afraid he’ll accidentally hurt Viktor, before Viktor gently kisses his shaking hands and promises to talk him through everything, which he does, and his voice does _things_ to Yuuri, especially when his brain sort of short-circuits and he switches to Russian. They become a lot more vocal during sex after that.

 

One day Yuuri might get used to the feeling of waking up next to Viktor almost every morning, to the way he can just casually reach over to touch him whenever he wants to, but it still gets him often, feeling warmth blossom in his chest and spread around his whole body, swirling through his limbs and pooling in his stomach, making him slightly lighter, the world just a little bit brighter, and this… this is all he ever wanted and yet he never even dreamed of.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this lil thing! This was pretty much my first attempt at writing anything even involving kissing (wow, lame), let alone more explicit stuff, so I'm both excited and terrified to find out how I did :D


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